


the half of the abuse

by whyclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, and his foot is kinda gross?, but there's some kissing, i tried not to go into graphic detail, it's pretty much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7260862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyclarke/pseuds/whyclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hey guys! i love bellarke taking care of each other, and so i was really feeling this fic today. dropship!bellarke because of the fandom's rewatch of the show to survive the hellatus, which has been really inspiring me :) <br/>hope y'all like it! <br/>thanks so much to problematicbellarke for proofreading <3</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*title from heathens by twenty one pilots*</p>
            </blockquote>





	the half of the abuse

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy was hunting when he broke his foot. He knew it had splintered, heard the crack of bone as his foot fractured, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be off his feet because of some ridiculous animal that decided to charge when the inexperienced delinquents snapped a stick on the forest floor. His foot was too swollen to take his shoe off by the time they were back at camp, but he hid his obvious limp behind his short temper and love of discipline.

Bellamy was hunting when he broke his foot. He knew it had splintered, heard the crack of bone as his foot fractured, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be off his feet because of some ridiculous animal that decided to charge when the inexperienced delinquents snapped a stick on the forest floor. His foot was too swollen to take his shoe off by the time they were back at camp, but he hid his obvious limp behind his short temper and love of discipline. He knew the delinquents needed him to be okay, to hunt – he couldn’t show weakness, not when the body count was growing and the Grounders were preparing for an attack. Better to suffer, he thought, than to give the kids one more thing to make them afraid. Clarke knew something was up, noticed the way he grimaced with pain when he thought no one was watching, but she said nothing – he was an arrogant asshole who needed to be taken down a peg, sure, but she respected his privacy.

Bellamy slept with one shoe on. No one knew why, and no one had the guts to ask, but his hunting boot stayed put on his left foot even when his right foot was bare. Octavia thought maybe he was just paranoid, in the way he always sat at the desk over her spot on the floor and tapped his toe to the beat of her heart during inspections – he had always shown his stress in a weird way, and this was no different. Bellamy knew that people were talking about his strange sleeping habits, but it was better than thinking that their leader was going to be out of commission when the Grounders attacked, at least in his mind. He had a high pain threshold, but the way his foot burned didn’t seem normal. He ignored it, of course, but the feeling that something was seriously wrong nagged at the back of his mind.

His nightmares were more vivid than usual that night. He could practically smell Atom’s singed flesh, could feel the wind whoosh past his hands as Charlotte jumped off the cliff. He dreamed of Grounders with spears raised, killing his friends – killing Clarke. The fact that even the idea of her death terrified him was scarier than his own demons. He was terrified of loving her, because loving her meant that he would never be loved back. How could someone so good love someone like him? He was a monster, and he knew it. She had tried to tell him that he wasn’t, that day he tried to leave, but he knows what pity sounds like. Bellamy Blake dreamt of heartbreak and sorrow, and didn’t wake up.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke is livid with anger and a tinge of worry – Bellamy is always awake before everyone else, but today the sun has hit it’s peak and he hasn’t emerged. Octavia shrugs and runs off, probably to visit her Grounder boyfriend while he’s distracted, and Monty tells her he hasn’t seen him today. Raven simply glares, and Finn… well, she doesn’t go to Finn. She’s worried, and everyone knows it. She has a sinking feeling in her chest that Bellamy left, followed through on his promise from the day trip, and so she makes her way to his tent. When she arrives, her stomach drops. It’s worse than she thought.

He’s sweating buckets, mumbling about Charlotte in his fever-ridden stupor. His left shoe is still on, and when she finally cuts it off, she understands why. His foot is swollen and infected, bruised a deep purple and swimming in pus. If he wasn’t so incredibly injured, she’d slap him. No wonder he looked like he was in pain – his foot was broken, and seriously.

“Bellamy, you idiot,” she mumbles, and begins to shout for help. Monty, Jasper and Miller are by her side immediately, and together, they hoist his limp form up. The kids stop their work as they pass, and the whispers that start all sound terrified. They drop him in their makeshift hospital with an unceremonious thud, and Bellamy whimpers. His eyes open blearily, and he sees Clarke.

“Don’t make a scene, Princess. I don’t want to –” He grimaces as Clarke begins to examine his foot, poking and prodding to find the break. “To cause a scene.”

“You should’ve thought of that when you let your broken foot get infected, Bellamy.” She tried to sound annoyed, but it failed, her voice cracking on his name.

“I didn’t want them to get worried. The Grounders are coming, and the last thing they need right now is to think the most experienced fighter in this place is out of commission.”

“When did it happen?”

“About two weeks ago.” Clarke’s sharp intake of breath at his admittance shocks Bellamy. Of course he wouldn’t say anything – he caused the deaths of hundreds of people in the culling, and the deaths of every life lost on the ground. He’s the oldest; he should have known, should have done something. He can suffer if it means his people feel safe. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s mumbling this, the fever taking away his inhibitions as well as any drink. Even so, he could use some of Monty’s moonshine right about now. 

“Bellamy, you idiot.” He is pulled under by the currents of his fever before she can say anything else.

***

“Bellamy?” Octavia’s voice seems far away. He is awake, but barely, and her touch on his shoulder surprises him. He aches all over, and he can’t gather up the energy to lift his head off of the table he lies on.

“O, are you ok? I didn’t see you when – when I woke up. I saw Monty, and Miller, and Jasper, and Clarke, but not you.”

“Brother, you are an idiot,” she informs him. 

“So I’ve heard.” He laughs weakly. His sister simply shakes her head and takes his hand. They are large and rough and warm, warmer than they should be, but his fever has barely broken. She calls out for Clarke, and she materializes almost immediately.

“He’s awake,” Octavia mumbles to the older girl as she exits the drop ship. Octavia has spent most of her life under the floor, but she is no fool, and she knows that they need to be alone for this.

“How could you? God, you’re such an ass.” Clarke has gotten over her fear, it seems, because she is fuming.

“Look, I just didn’t want them to worry–”

“Really? Because allowing your foot to get so bad that I had to literally cut your shoe off of your foot does not sound like helping the delinquents to feel better. It sounds like you were trying to kill yourself, Bellamy.”

“Why do you think I slept with one shoe on, Princess? Don’t take credit, I couldn’t get it off either.”

“That’s exactly my point! When I so much as sniffle, you make me take a day off. Why do you get to decide who can suffer and who can’t?”

“Because you matter, Clarke. Look at me.” She does. He is close to tears, his brown eyes betraying his true feelings for himself. He looks hopeless, in that moment, and her heart breaks. “If I die, it’s okay. We’ll be losing one of our best fighters, but I don’t bring them together, you do. You’re the real leader here, Clarke. I’m just here for my sister.”

“I don’t believe that.” And then they’re kissing, desperate and hopeless and frantic and passionate. Her hands rake through his hair and his hands are on her back, weak but insistent, trying to pull her towards him. She laughs on his lips, moving onto the table, pressing her body to his, and she can feel his back arch upwards until they touch. In that moment, he almost lets himself forget the unforgivable acts he has done. She has already forgiven him.

One Week Later

“How are you feeling?” Her concern is cute, but not necessary. When Bellamy tells Clarke as much, she swats him on his good leg. 

“Last time I let you have privacy when it comes to your various and numerous injuries, you almost died.”

“Last time I was injured, you didn’t spend your nights in my tent.” That earns him a swat on his bad leg, but he’s grinning stupidly and so is she.

“Normally, I wouldn’t fight you on this, but -” He cuts her off with a snort.

“When have you not fought me about something, Princess?” 

“Bellamy, there have been plenty of times that I have not fought with you about things.”

“You’re even fighting with me about not fighting with me!” Indignant, she puts her hands on her hips. 

“Bellamy Blake, you better not forget that I didn’t fight you about giving assault rifles to delinquents, and if you think that wasn’t a big fight waiting to happen…” She is silenced when he puts his lips on hers. When he breaks free, she’s still talking, her breath tickling his lips. 

“There was also the time when I said nothing as you paraded girls from your tent.” He backs up a step, surprised at her admittance. She looks hurt, but she doesn’t understand - she’s all he’s wanted, from the moment she had put Atom to rest. 

“You hated me, Clarke. I loved you, and you were off sleeping with the Spacewalker, and so I guess I just needed to fill the space meant for you in my bed. They only wanted sex, and so did I. Okay?” Her eyes are still dark from their closeness, and Bellamy finds herself wondering how she managed to contain herself when they had fought before. 

“You’re still an ass, Bellamy.” He laughs, and she can feel it rattle in his chest, feel it heave in his stomach and up his throat. His shoulders shake with mirth as he pulls her closer to him, his soft, halting breaths warm on her cheek. 

“I know,” he says, and kisses her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Come check me out on tumblr at whyclarke.tumblr.com :)   
> kudos and feedback are always welcome, and would make me so happy!  
> shoot me a fic you'd like for me to write on my blog!


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